They are instant holiday. They come in netted bags and resonate the flavor of cinnamon sticks. Regular pine cones just smell like bark—these pine cones smell like holiday potpourri. They’re fucking bizarre mass produced bullshit that smell like the antithesis of shit, which is why they are so great.

And they look nice! They are flavored decoration, objects you can place around your home to sanitize the air and add a character to a room. They bring a mythical Christmas forest into your space. You may laugh at them as you check out of at supermarkets, giggling and wondering “Who buys those things?“—but I assure you they are a necessary purchase. They are instant holiday cheer. Also, I’m the one who buys them. Check your Christmas entitlement.

Sure, cinnamon brooms are very similar to cinnamon pine cones. The only difference is that the brooms are a bit too grandma and a bit too permanent. Pine cones? They are natural and disposable. They have a scented lifespan of a month but can be kept (or composted) when you are done with them.

And who doesn’t want their home to smell like you shoved a bunch of cinnamon dicks in your nose? Yes, it’s a cheesy smell but it is a good smell. If you leave these cones in the same place, in a giant bowl or arranged next to each other, the smell is concentrated and like a Christmas stocking kicking you in the face. But scattering them around? They offer a discrete reprieve from your normal home smells.

Something else: put them in your bathroom or in your kitchen. Have a notoriously malodorous place? Put a bunch of fucking cinnamon pine cones near it and cover it all up. Eat that faux Big Red gum with your nose and stare into the fake forest of your home.

Cinnamon pine cones are great. Scoff. Buy your designer pine cones made from silver or dipped in diamonds. Make your own cinnamon pine cones or flavor them in a different way: that is fine because it’s the same idea. Cinnamon pine cones occupy a territory between naturalist decor and suburban pleasure. Everyone loves fake nature indoors. It’s so Winter, it’s so December, it’s so Christmas: buy yourself some fucking cinnamon pine cones, people.